The Battle
by ShelleyBarnard
Summary: Everybody run. Janeway's gotta gun. (With apologies to Aerosmith...)


NOTE: Everything belongs to Paramount. If they belonged to me, Janeway would get the phaser compression rifle _and_ the boy.

"The Battle"

Once again, _Voyager_ was a battlefield, and Janeway was prowling the corridors like a panther. When would the universe learn that this was _her_ ship, hers and no one else's? By the end of the day, there would be no doubt in anyone's mind on this question. _Voyager_ was _hers_, and she would prove it. She had proved it a dozen times over. She had proven it with her love, her determination, her sweat, and, yes, with her blood; but today she would prove it with the pistol she carried so possessively.

There had been twenty crewmen in her team, counting herself, but now she was down to sixteen. They had done very well in the last conflict, but had not come out completely unscathed. She split her team in two, putting the other half in Lt. Ayala's capable hands. He whispered to her over the comm badges that he had found the last group of hostile forces in the Mess Hall. It was possible that they were resting, but more likely that they were setting up an ambush for her team. She decided to plan a little surprise of her own. She knew the enemy commander, had studied him carefully, and was certain that she could devise the tactics that she needed to defeat him.

She whispered her instructions to Ayala, and then turned to the eight crewmen that she still had with her. She waved the pistol in the air, signaling to her team to gather close together, while she put the index finger of her other hand to her mouth. She gave out more instructions with her hands. One hand pushed close to the ground, _stay low_, while the hand with the pistol urged her team to inch forward, slowly. When she had them in place, she gave a primal scream and then ran into the open to initiate a full-blown assault upon her enemy.

The battle was fast and furious, with a tremendous casualty rate. She didn't care. She had been cautious all afternoon, playing a waiting game while her enemies slowly decimated each other. There had originally been five separate forces, counting her own, but now they were down to just two. This was crunch time, and Janeway decided to go for broke. She could afford some casualties, if it brought her victory in the end.

She quickly found her particular target, the enemy commander. She threw her last two bombs at him, and then plastered him from head to toe with her pistol. He immediately fell to the deck, just as he was supposed to. She sneered down at him, "You might want to think about surrendering," as she continued picking off more of his people. He nodded, conceding defeat.

Janeway stared down at her enemy in satisfaction. There was no way he was going to be getting up on his own any time soon. He was laughing too hard. Actually, she was starting to worry that he might really be in pain. How could anyone laugh that hard? So she reached down her hand to help her first officer to his feet.

Chakotay's eyes twinkled. "Aren't you taking this a little seriously for a watergun fight, Kathryn?" 

Janeway stared at the ceiling as she attempted to control a mischievous grin. "You are mistaken, Commander. This is a serious simulation, designed to give the crew practice in hand-to-hand combat in case we are boarded again."

Chakotay tried to hide his smile, but his dimples gave him away. "Of course, Captain. And the fact that I am soaking wet adds to the simulation _how_, exactly?"

"You were in command of the last enemy force. There is no way I would leave an enemy commander on his feet, knowing that he might rally his forces and retake my ship."

This time the smile got out of control, but he simply repeated "Of course, Captain. I guess that I had better replicate a dry uniform before we meet to analyze the simulation."

"That wouldn't be wise, Chakotay." The first officer looked at her quizzically. "Don't you need to conserve your rations? Or did you forget that we had a wager over the outcome of this battle?"

"Oh, I hadn't forgotten. A nice dinner..."

Kathryn interrupted excitedly, like a child. "With coffee ice-cream!"

"...With coffee ice-cream for dessert, and two bottles of red wine."

"_And_ a backrub!"

"_And_ a backrub," Chakotay agreed blandly.

Janeway stared at Chakotay suspiciously, wondering whether he was teasing her, or whether he had been planning to weasel out of the backrub all along. His poker face gave nothing away. She decided to approach the subject from a different angle. "I want to repeat this simulation with the rest of the crew as soon as possible. But if you are willing to make another wager, I can wait until you have enough replicator rations again."

"You're awfully sure of yourself, Captain. How do you know _I_ won't win the next war? Even the great Kathryn Janeway can lose on occasion." Actually, he didn't believe it for a second, but he was hoping to bring out the crooked sardonic smile that he loved so much. And he wasn't disappointed.

"I would have thought that you would know by now, Commander, that I seldom lose. And _never_ on my own ship."

Chakotay did know this. He was counting on it. Just as he was counting on a romantic dinner with lots of wine and a treat that always made Kathryn a little giddy. Just as he was counting on sliding his hands up and down her back until she moaned with pleasure. He had given the simulation his best effort — he always gave Kathryn his all — but he had assumed from the beginning that he would lose this particular battle. He was more hopeful about the engagement that would be fought that evening, in his quarters.

-- The End


End file.
